


I Wanna Be Yours Now

by Justalittlelouislove



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Just tons of Fluff, Secret Admirer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-16
Updated: 2017-08-16
Packaged: 2018-12-15 23:49:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11816790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Justalittlelouislove/pseuds/Justalittlelouislove
Summary: “Look, I’m not saying that it’s for sure a serial killer.” Pressing the end of his cigarette to his lips, Zayn takes a short pull and speaks through the exhale, blowing smoke out of the side of his mouth and up towards the sky. “All I’m saying is there’s a good possibility it’s a serial killer.”Someone is sending Louis flowers. Everyone suffers until Louis gets answers.





	I Wanna Be Yours Now

**Author's Note:**

> This is for FuriousLou, to whom I will never be able to properly show my gratitude. Your support is so very appreciated. I hope this isn't a total disappointment. 
> 
> Also, without yoursongonmyheart, I would spend every day rocking in the corner crying with my laptop open and the cursor blinking on an open google doc. "Thank you" will never be enough, but it's all I've got.

Varicolored leaves crunch quietly under Louis’s feet as he briskly makes his way down the walking path leading to the coffee shop. They break apart like brittle bits of stained glass, sticking to his shoelaces and leaving behind a trail of golden and orange hue.  Wrapped up in a wool sweater and warm joggers, he’s not cold really, but the crisp autumn air adds a touch of pink to his cheeks and calls for a nice cup of tea. Hopefully, Niall will already have some brewing.  

Shouldering in through the front door, and striding to the back towards Liam's office, he spots the top of his head where he's bent down behind the desk. In reaction to the sound of Louis thumping down a glass vase on top of the desk, Liam jerks and bangs his head. The pained and embarrassed expression he offers Louis melts into annoyance when he realizes who standing in front of him.

"Jesus. Thanks, mate, came to give me a concussion, I assume." Sure Louis is the drama major, but really Liam can lay it on thick when his ego is involved.

"I'm sorry, baby." From his extensive repertoire, Louis pulls out his most sickly sweet voice. Only the best for his Lima. "Do you want me to run and get you some ice? Maybe a Lolli will make you feel better?"

Rolling his eyes and flopping down into his computer chair, Liam juts his chin towards the flowers. “Another batch of flowers I see. Still no clue who’s sending them?”

Louis shoots an indignant look at the bouquet of sunflowers and scrubs his hand over his face roughly.

"No, no fucking idea. Last week daisies. The week before lilies. The week before that, tulips." His voice takes on a frantic tone as if he's being sent grenades instead of beautiful bouquets. "What am I going to do Liam? How am I going to find out who's doing it?"

Louis loves Liam, truly he does, but the sympathetic look he gives him is just not cutting it. He needs solutions, answers, help, something.

“And you’re sure that it's a stranger. It’s couldn't be anyone else, someone from class or something?”

They have been over this a hundred times at least. Louis props his hip up on the corner of Liam’s desk, ignoring him when he pushes at him frantically to get to the papers he’s crinkling.

"It's not like I have a whole lot of free time to be out creating secret admirers." Between class and playing gigs at the coffee shop, there's barely time to breathe. Let alone go out and accidentally woe perfect strangers.

Liam loses his balance when he finally gets the papers free from under Louis and falls back into the chair with an annoyed huff. Using the corner of the desk to try and straighten them, he doesn't bother looking up to answer.

“You mean you don’t _want_ to spend your free time out creating secret admirers," Liam says in a lecturing tone.  He's been around Louis for long enough to only blink when he's given a reproachful stare. "You haven't made time for any kind of admirers actually."

The kid never lets up with badgering Louis about his love life. As if he has any room to talk, he’s just as single and seemingly just as unwilling to mingle.

“Okay Liam, how’s this for an idea.” Louis pokes him once in the chest, hard. “How about we figure out my coffee shop secret admirer love situation, and then we’ll work on finding me a fairy tale prince?

They go over the scenarios again. But, they get no closer to the bottom of it. Liam, as usual, is no help at all. Since he's been hitting the gym religiously, it's like his muscles are getting bigger, but his brain is shrinking. It's probably the size of a walnut by now.  Louis tells him so and doesn't regret it, even when Liam uses his oversized bear arms to pick him up and deposit him out into the coffee shop, slamming the door behind him.

Some people simply can not handle the truth.

 

* * *

 

Louis's feet are cold. Spread out on the lounge chair on his balcony, he shivers a little watching the late afternoon sky melt to dusk.  The breeze picks up slightly, sending leaves swirling and spiraling down from their branches, whistling gently through the gaps between the surrounding buildings. In absence of the warm afternoon rays of sunshine, the metal of the chair starts to cool. Goosebumps start to crop up along the caramel color of his arms. And his feet are cold.

There’s a blanket thrown over the back of the sofa from Wednesday, where it’s been since Harry had grown tired of listening to Louis whine over the dialogue in the movie and had wrapped him in it like a cocoon. He could go get it now, maybe make himself a nice cup of tea. Any minute now, he could go do that. He won’t.

He knows, logically, that he's being stroppy and may be wallowing in self-pity a bit. But, being self- aware does nothing to lighten his mood. It's always like this, is the thing. When the new semester starts and the long summer nights get shorter and shorter. When he can't even sit out on his balcony without needing a god-forsaken blanket. When the first leaf falls, so does Louis's mood. Letting go of summer is like saying goodbye to a good friend, watching them wave as their train leaves the station. Only to have to welcome in a colder and harsher friend for the next five months. So, irrational as it may be, Louis hangs on to summer as long as he can. Refuses to don jumpers until he shivers, keeps his heavy coat locked away until he inevitably catches a nasty cold, sits on his balcony sans blanket or socks.

“Hey.” Harry’s gentle greeting interrupts Louis’s pity party and nearly scares him half to death. He tells him so with a pointed look and a hand clutched to his chest.

 Harry shrugs apologetically from the door frame, all warm sweater, and wool socks, and hands him the blanket from behind the couch. Bless him.

"What's up, just get off your shift?" Louis's voice is a little raspy from practice with Zayn earlier in the day, but Harry can hear him, he's sure.

Harry nods in response and makes his way to the lounge chair, his intention clear. Louis thinks about putting up a fight, the chair has seen better days and it's not like he has money just laying around to buy a new one if this one breaks under their weight. Harry must see it brewing on his face because he scoops Louis up bridal style and sits them back on down on the chair.

Honestly, the nerve of some people.

It’s warm in this position, bodies facing each other with Louis’s forehead resting on Harry’s chest. When he lays like this with Zayn, high and cuddly, the metal arm always digs into his back in a way that makes him sore in the morning. But, Harry’s managed to bunch up the blanket during their change in position somehow, which of course is much more comfortable.

Harry’s his favorite.

He still gives him a pinch, because he can’t reward him for manhandling him like that, but it’s only a little one.

“I made you a cup of tea.” Harry’s chest rumbles against Louis’s face slightly while he speaks and he burrows in deeper.  “Left it on the counter, figured you’d spill it out here.”

Louis murmurs in thanks and pats Harry's chest gently. They should go inside now; the sun has made its final descent and he's yet to eat dinner. Neither of them seems willing to move though; too comfortable in each other's company and silence. The other boys are wonderful, they're family to him. But, Harry just gets him. He knows when he needs quiet. When he needs to be left in his own head. When he wants to feel a bit blue. Knows that despite his palpable bad temper, he really doesn't want to be alone right now. He snuggles in closer, resists the urge to practically purr when Harry starts to card his fingers through his fringe, holding him snugly against his chest.

It’s in that position, wrapped up in each other and the blanket, the morning sun finds them. Cup of tea forgotten on the counter.

 

 

* * *

 

 

If one was looking, in the time between sets while music plays through the speakers of the coffee shop instead of Zayn’s knee weakening croon, Louis and Zayn can almost always be found in the alley. It’s where they are now, under the cloudy, slate gray sky. From his crouched position next to the wall, Louis stares incredulously at Zayn, who looms over him, arms outstretched.

“Look, I’m not saying that it’s for sure a serial killer.” Pressing the end of his cigarette to his lips, Zayn takes a short pull and speaks through the exhale, blowing smoke out of the side of his mouth and up towards the sky. “All I’m saying is there’s a good possibility it’s a serial killer.”

Exasperated, exhausted, and questioning every decision that lead him to become friends with this kid, Louis leans his head against the brick of the building and closes his eyes. When he's counted to 10 three times, he opens them again and grabs the cigarette pack from Zayn, who rolls his cigarette between the tips of his fingers and arches his eyebrow, sending Louis a disapproving look. He's quitting, he is, just not today. Tomorrow probably. Tomorrow for sure. Fuck Zayn, anyway.

Sticking the cigarette in his mouth and letting it mumble his speech while he lights it, Louis says, “Or, I know this is a crazy idea, but hear me out. Maybe someone is attracted to me.”

“I didn’t say no one is attracted to you.  You’ve got a great bum,” Zayn notes and pulls his cigarette out of his mouth gesturing with it in a way that’s meant to point out the way Louis’s crouched down. “And you are all bendy, athletic.”

Louis narrows his eyes in mock suspicion "It's you, isn't it? You're my admirer, Malik."

The bland look on Zayn's face would be offensive if Louis didn't know it's one of his most used expressions. "Not really my type, Lou." Again. Fuck Zayn.

“Yeah, well. You aren’t my type either.” Which, yeah,  is a downright lie because Zayn is everyone’s type. But, that’s neither here nor there.

"Maybe your serial killer is your type." Zayn's smile is quick and mischievous. " Maybe he'll take you out for dinner before he skins you."

"I'll tell you what. I promise to wear my special whistle and make sure to stay out of empty car parks late at night. Will that make you feel better, Daddy?" He feigns innocence, widening his eyes and fluttering his eyelashes in a way that makes most men sway towards him like a mouse to cheese. Zayn just rolls his eyes. The bastard. "I think you're just jealous I'm getting flowers. You're trying to deter me from finding my one true love. I resent that, Z."

“Whatever.” Zayn crushes his cigarette butt under the heel of his boot and snatches Louis’s away to do the same, ignoring his squawking about not being finished. “Don’t come crying to me when you wake up in a dungeon.”

Accepting the fact that Zayn has deemed their cigarette break over, Louis yanks open the heavy metal door and props it open with his shoulder, letting Zayn pass first.

“How am I supposed to come to you at all, if I’m in a _dungeon_ . I get the feeling you haven't really thought this through.” He smiles sweetly when Zayn glares over his shoulder with a look that Louis translated several years ago to roughly _shut the fuck up, you wanker._

Whatever. If Louis ever did find himself in a dungeon, Zayn would be the first one looking for him.

 

* * *

 

The smell of brewing coffee and cinnamon wrap around them as they make their way through their warm ups. The kitchen door swings open with a waitress, and the scent of apples wafts through the air adding to the mix. Fucking hell, Harry is baking. In all his life, Louis has never tasted an apple pie like Harry’s. Even Niall, with his considerable pie experience, says it’s the very best.

Louis glances up at the clock above the front door. They’ve still got about twelve minutes before their first set. He motions to Zayn that he’s heading into the kitchen and hops the counter, ducking out of Niall’s reach when he tries to smack him in the back of the head.

"Oi! Stop doing that, ya knob. Just walk around." Even when he's annoyed, Niall can hardly pull off more than fond.

“Places to be, people to see!” Louis tosses over his shoulder in Niall’s general direction before pushing into the kitchen and rubbing his hands together. “And pie to eat.”

From the prepping counter, Harry spins around and thrusts himself bodily between Louis and the pie. With this arms and legs stretched out in his best imitation of a starfish, Harry shakes his head violently. To avoid watching Harry give himself shaken baby syndrome, Louis raises his hands in retreat and takes a step back.

“I’ve only just gotten it out of the oven! How did you even know?” Harry’s panicked voice is ascending pitch so steadily, in a minute only the alley cats outside with be able to hear him. Louis snorts at the way his eyes threaten to bulge out of his head. It’s not the Queen’s pie for god sake.

“I smelled it, just like everyone else who ever finds out about a pie does, I assume.” He inches forward slowly, changes the sound of his voice to a soothing kind of tone to try and coax Harry a little. “Just came to see. Can’t I have just a little piece?” If he was a prideful man, he would be ashamed of the way he whines a little at the end.

There’s no room for pride in pie conquest.

Harry's face visually softens a bit. Soft as a newborn kitten that one is, built like a giraffe, but way too soft for his own good.  He purses his lips and fists his hands on his hips.

“You’ll burn yourself.”

“I won’t.”

“You will.” Harry punctuates his sentence with a stomp of his foot. Louis is a little bit endeared.

“I won’t, Haz.” He’s got to put a stop to this now or they’ll be here until the pie sprouts roots and grows another apple tree.

“You just burned yourself just last week.” Harry raises an eyebrow at him, smug with himself. And, well yeah he did. But still.

He pulls his phone out of his back pocket and notes he’s only got five minutes left before the set. Alright. Enough is enough.

Tipping his chin down slightly and looking up through his lashes, he pulls out his last tactic.

“I’m just hungry is all.  But, if you’re saying you don’t want to have to take care of me. It’s okay, I understand.” He looks down at the kitchen floor, brushes the toe of his converse along the tile. “I could just run down the road or something.”

It takes every ounce of willpower Louis possess not to grin like a maniacal villain when Harry’s stubborn expression changes into indignance and he lets out an insulted huff.

“Well if you were hungry why didn’t you say so, Lou.” Spinning around and grabbing a  dish cloth to hold the pie dish still, Harry cuts a sizeable piece, plates it and shoves it at Louis. He starts chopping vegetables rather aggressively, mumbling darkly under his breath. “Just nip down the road and eat somewhere else? When there’s perfectly good food here? Honestly.”

A piece of carrot bounces off the board and skids across the floor as Louis makes his escape, smiling to himself at his fortune for having a friend who's a nan in a 21-year-old's body.

 

* * *

 

As a child, Louis had a routine that he stuck to with more tenacity than he did with anything else. Certainly, more than he did with doing school work.

Every day, he would race home, drop his bag on the bench next to the door, bang open the cabinets in the kitchen, pour himself a bowl of coco puffs, and plop down in front of the telly just in time for Scooby Doo. It's due to this daily regimen of sugar overload and mystery solving,  that Louis feels pretty confident in his sleuthing skills.  That confidence only grows, when after quite literally chasing down the retreating delivery boy, Louis finds out which shop his weekly flowers are coming from.

He squints up at the wooden sign, inscribed with the name "Little White Lilies" in a flowy script, as it slaps precariously against the side of the small brick building in the harsh wind. The windows are fogged up, small beads of water slip down the glass, and a child has drawn a heart at the corner of one.  It gives him a warm kind of feeling, the little heart, distracts him from his mission for a minute as he thinks back to day trips to small shops with his mum.  A gust of wind sneaks under his scarf and chills his neck, snapping his attention back to the matter at hand.

 As Louis walks in the front door, a bell tinkles prettily, alerting whomever that a customer is in. The air is humid and thick with the sweet scent of flowers, although the source of the smell must all be in the back, as none are on display here. No one is at the counter, despite the bell, so Louis busies himself by reading the multitude of small hand-painted signs and vases that line the walls.

Gently, he picks up a small pink vase, on it, _I’ll Be Your Light_ is written in a tiny gold script.  It's simple and pretty, not really his style, but for some reason pulls him in.  

When a soft cough sounds behind him, he startles, nearly dropping the vase. Heart pounding in his chest and feeling just a bit foolish, he whirls around. Before him stands tiny women whose huge brown eyes twinkle with humor.

“Easy, didn’t mean to spook you.” She says with a tilt of her head and drops her eyes to the vase. “Are you interested in buying that?”

“Huh, oh no not really my kind of thing.” Louis glances down at the vase before turning and placing it back on the shelf. “I’m actually here about flowers.”

The woman blinks slowly when he doesn’t elaborate and gives him a small smile.

“Well, then I guess you’re at the right place.” Her smile broadens when an embarrassed pink tint colors Louis’s cheeks. “Is there a particular flower you are looking for?”

Great, two minutes in and she already thinks he’s the village idiot.

"Yes. I mean, well not an exact flower. I have been receiving flowers, and I would like to know who is sending them."

He resists rolling his eyes when she claps her hands together in excitement and bounces slightly on the balls of her feet. “Oh! A secret admirer then!”

Following behind her as she makes her way behind the counter and awakens the computer with a couple clicks on the keyboard, he answers, “Uh, yeah. I guess I want to know the secret.” Hands in his pockets, he gives a little shrug. There’s nothing to embarrassed about, he’s being sent flowers. It’s flattering. But, something about her knowing smile makes him want to squirm.

She turns back to the computer and taps in a password before turning back to him, faces suddenly serious and attitude business like.

“Okay. Details. Where are these flowers being sent, what time are they arriving, which bouquets are you receiving, what product do you use in your hair?”

She rattles off the list at such a fast pace, it takes Louis a few seconds to realize anything is off about the line of questioning.

“Me hair? What does that have to do with anything?”  He asks, pushing his fringe away from his forehead, and furrowing his brow. “I.. I don’t. I just wash it..in the shower.”

She stares at him in silence for a minute before turning back to the computer screen with an eye roll. "Some girls have all the luck." She mumbles. In a louder voice, she addresses him again, "Right, location?"

A handful of clicks and a short while later, they have discovered the flowers are in fact from Little White Lilies, they are always ordered on Monday at 4:30 am, they are ordered online, and they even have a name.

“So it says here, you’re secret admirers name is...oh.”

“Oh? That’s quite an original name.” Louis scoffs and tries to push himself onto the counter to crane his neck around and see the screen. “Don’t know if I’ll find it in the phone book.”

Glancing over, she notices him struggling and swings the screen towards him, almost knocking him out in the process.

"They order it under ‘S'." Using a long, dark maroon nail she taps gently on the screen, showing him the name. "Looks like your mystery will go unsolved for today."

A little disappointed, Louis gives a shrug and absentmindedly fixes his fringe. Even super sleuths run into a wall sometimes.

“Well, thanks anyway..” Louis trails off realizing they never exchanged names. “I’m sorry love, what is your name?”

She comes back around the counter and surprises him with a hug. He gets a whiff of vanilla and sandalwood from her hair as she pulls away and pats him on the chest.

“Jade. My name’s Jade and I want you to come right back here and let me know the instant you uncover your secret admirer.” She nods with finality, placing her hands on her hips.

And Louis was raised with more head strong women than most people meet in a lifetime. So, he knows the type of woman who won't tolerate arguing.  Jade seems the type.

“Alright. Cross my heart. You’ll be my first stop.” That earns him another pat, on the cheek this time, and a cookie for the road. Chocolate chip. Not a total loss after all.

 

* * *

  


"Alas, it has happened boys." Louis's shakes his head solemnly, eyes downcast at the table. Speaking in a low and somber voice, giving off the air of a mourning funeral attendee providing synopsis at the end of service. "Our young Harold, our vibrant, virile, vivacious, self-proclaimed ‘master of his own body and health', has succumbed to none of other than the flu."

From the register, Niall helpfully adds instrumentals to the performance with a low “Duh, duh, dunnnn!” Cackling at his own genius.

Liam leans back against the gray couch and swings his arm over the back, reaching the tips of his fingers out to gently play with  Zayn’s ear, who bats him away while trying to hide a sly smile. They watch as Harry drags a chair up to the table top and slumps down into it, dropping his head onto his crossed forearms. No doubt getting his sickly germs all over Louis’s favorite table.

“I’m not sick,” his voice is even lower than usual, sandpaper rubbing on concrete. They probably wouldn’t have clue what he was saying if it weren’t for this being the fifth time they had the same conversation this week. “Just tired is all. Just need a nap.”

Niall grumbles something under his breath from behind the counter and Louis looks up in time to see him roll his eyes spectacularly.

"Well, you better take a nap, or whatever it is you need to do lad." Gone from his voice is the somber tone, Louis now adopting a chipper timbre. Zayn takes a sip of warm lemon tea and smiles. He senses a performance coming on. Louis glances over at him and winks before continuing on.

“You are the backbone of our friend circle, you.” Placing his hand flat on Harry’s forehead, he tips it back and grasps his chin in the circle of his hand. “What will we do without your quick wit, your lovely charm, your beautiful kissy faces?” He’s growing more dramatic by the minute. His face getting closer and closer to Harry’s, brow scrunched in concentration, a flailing hand almost knocks over a cup of water before Liam anticipates it and quietly moves it aside. Drama student in his element, four friends his willing victims.

“Come on then, give us a kissy f-” His performance is cut short when his brain shrivels up and falls out of his left ear. Or, when Harry pushes his hands flat on the top of the table and brushes his lips against Louis’s, just once before sitting back down and resting his head back on his forearms.

Louis's head swivels on his neck as he stares at Liam and Zayn, mouth open and eyes wide. Liam at least has the manners to hide his smile behind his hand, while Zayn's staring back at him like the Cheshire Cat.

After 15 stunned and silent seconds, Louis jumps out of his seat and scrambles to the door, making vague excuses and muttering goodbyes along the way. He halts with his hand gripping the doorknob when Niall calls out to him.

“Oi! What’s this?” His thick Irish accent deepened by the humor it’s steeped in. “Don’t I get a kiss too!”

If Louis stumbles on the way out, no one would blame him.

 

* * *

 

“Oi!” Zayn yells from half a block away, stopping Louis. “Why are we doing this again? And I mean me, why am I doing this.”

He catches up to Louis, a stack of papers clutched in one hand and a stapler in the other. He’s wrinkling the flyers all up, Liam is not going to be happy if Louis has to have him print them up again. Especially since they used all the ink in the office this morning. Before Liam came in. Without asking.

“Are you going to listen to me this time?” Louis asks, eyebrows raised.

“I listened last time.”

Louis throws his hands up in frustration. “Then why are you asking me again?”

"I'm giving you a chance to change your stupid answer, aren't I?"  How absurd.  Louis doesn't have stupid answers. He doesn't even have stupid questions. Stupid friends maybe.

"We're hanging up these flyers because I need to know who my secret admirer is and I ran into a dead end at the flower shop," Louis tells him, again, in a slow voice. The way Zayn narrows his eyes in open frustration is a little satisfying. Stupid answer. Honestly.

Putting his finger in Zayn’s face and poking him in the cheek with it when he tries to smack it away, he continues. “And you are helping me hang these flyers up because you’re Scooby.”

Zayn blinks. “Excuse me.”

Pointing to himself, Louis explains flippantly. “I’m Shaggy. You’re Scooby.” He gestures between the two of them, signifying a partnership. “We are going to solve the mystery.”

“Why am I Scooby?” Zayn asks indignantly and then shakes his head. “Why is _anyone_ Scooby?”

Louis flips up his hood against the cold and spins on his heel. Marching towards the next post, he doesn’t bother looking back to see if Zayn is following.

“I don’t make the rules Zayn.”

 

By the time they have finished, his nose is running and Zayn has threatened to staple _him_ to a post several times. But, all the flyers are up and they have time for hot cocoa before their set. Louis will gladly take that as a win.

 

* * *

  


When the beautiful colors of fall give way to the icy chill of winter, revision week hits. Louis is currently swimming through endless days of propping his eyelids open with toothpicks in an attempt to somehow absorb enough information to get through his exams. Living with the kind of routine that can only be maintained by copious amounts of caffeine.

It's for the purpose of easy access to the aforementioned life sustaining caffeine, that Louis spends his time revising in the coffee shop. Harry, who never seems to crack a book or take a day off, sails through every one of his classes. Louis would hate him if it weren't for the fresh cup of tea he's supplying him every 20 minutes. The coffee shop is mercifully empty now, save for them and Liam and Zayn in the office.  Armed with a  fresh cup and a slice of pie, Harry sits down next to him.

Louis scratches the back of his neck and pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. Hours upon hours of studying have dried his eyes and rendered his contacts unusable, so he'd had to spend nearly 20 minutes searching his place for this pair. Twenty minutes of time he simply did not have to waste, if he's to pass his exams anyway. Across the table, he's got his notes sprawled out along with a couple textbooks and four empty coffee cups. He's a bit stressed, to say the least.

"When's the last time you ate anything, Lou?" Harry's voice is low, but the worry comes through loud and clear. Louis's eyes remain trained on his papers, hands frantically rifling through them in search of his history notes.

“Um.” He just had the damn thing, where is it. He just fucking saw the paper. “Last thing I ate was the soup you made. With the noodles.” With a triumphant kind of noise, he finds the paper and pats Harry’s hand on the table, “It was good that, tasted great.”

“Louis.” Louis either doesn’t hear the annoyance in Harry’s voice or chooses to ignore it in favor of marking up his newly found notes with a pink highlighter. “I gave you that soup yesterday at lunch. It’s just past seven at night.”

Louis answers with a distracted noise in the back of his throat but doesn't look up. It's because he doesn't, that he doesn't see Harry narrow his eyes and make a choice.

The highlighter clatters to the floor under the table, uncapped and rolling towards the other couch when Harry's hand grasps the back of Louis's neck tightly and squeezes. Body completely lax but brain running a mile a minute, Louis considers looking down to check if he is on fire. That's ridiculous, he's only imagining himself burning up like a roman candle. There would be pain, if he was actually on fire right now, there would be pain.

Harry hand, calloused but gentle, interrupts his internal rambling, cupping Louis's chin and turning it towards him.  He's looking at him intently, gauging his reaction Louis thinks but doesn't let him go.  

“I brought you pie, and I want you to eat it.” Louis’s expression must give off some indication that he wants to argue, or Harry just knows him well enough to anticipate it, because the steady pressure increases on the back of Louis’s neck.

Harry’s eyes follow Louis’s as they sweep down to the plate of apple pie and swing back up to Harry’s.

“You forgot a fork.” The exhaustion can be blamed for the breathy, stilted way his voice sounds. It’s just that he’s so tired. Obviously.

Harry nods in agreement and lets go of Louis’s chin in favor of breaking off a piece of pie with his fingers. There’s no logical reason for Louis’s to miss his touch the instant he moves it from his face. But, it’s like it tingles, the skin where Harry’s fingers had held him.

Slowly, deliberately, Harry brings the pie up to Louis’s mouth, taps his knuckle against his bottom lip. Louis responds without meaning to, his mouth popping open, the tip of his tongue running the length of his lip. Harry’s eyes darken as he traces the movement, but he stays silent.

Harry blinks slowly when Louis's tongue slides over the pads of his finger tips. The pie tastes of cherry, sweetness, and tart battling a bit against his taste buds. It's probably the best pie he's had in awhile, but when Harry slips the second piece into his mouth all he wants is to suck his fingers further into his mouth. Run his tongue in between them and let them gag him. Jesus. What the hell is happening?

Harry’s eyes sweep down to Louis’s chest, must notice how his chest is heaving. How he’s breathing like he’s run three miles just from the way Harry’s fingertips brush against his lips. The flush creeps uncontrollably up Louis’s chest under Harry’s stare. He would like nothing more than just an inch of space, just a little room to breathe the right way, just a second to think. Harry breaks off another piece.

Cocking his head to the side, he watches as Louis opens his mouth again. Kneads at the back of Louis’s neck absentmindedly, probably not even realizing he’s doing it.

“That’s it, doing such a good job.” Harry murmurs and Louis’s head spins. He means the pie, he knows he’s talking about eating the pie. But, his breath catches all the same. Harry’s eyes are on his mouth, watching him eat, but he hears the small intake of breath and his eyes snap up to meet Louis’s. He searches his expression, narrows his eyes slightly at whatever he sees there.

Lifting the last piece of pie to Louis's mouth, he speaks again. "Do you like that? Do you like when I tell you what a good job you're doing?" He leaves his fingers in Louis's mouth this time, intentionally, middle and forefinger pressing heavily against his tongue and not allowing him to close his mouth properly. "Do you like being a good boy?"

What the fuck.

Louis’s body responds so violently, jerking forward on its own accord towards Harry, that he gags himself on Harry’s fingers. Harry steadies him, slides his fingers out, tapping his thumb one more time on his lip before grabbing the plate and abruptly standing.

Frozen in place, breathing heavily with his dick pressing uncomfortably against the zipper of his pants, Louis watches as Harry sails into the kitchen with the empty plate. When minutes go by and he doesn’t return, Louis takes a calming breath and looks down at his cup.

He’s gonna need something a lot stronger.

 

* * *

 

The second week of winter holiday, feet of snow blanket the town. Wet and dense, it makes driving and traveling in any sense a nightmare. Getting to the coffee shop on foot isn’t so bad, as Louis only lives about three blocks away. It’s slippery and will be an awful ugly mess in a couple days but, looks like promising snowman material.  It’s doing just that, working on the base of what looks like an excellent snowman in back of the coffee shop, where Louis finds Niall.

He places a brick in the side door to the alley, to make sure they don’t get locked out and pulls his coat tight around his body. Trudging through the snow, he comes up next to him and nudges his shoulder with his own. In the quiet of the morning, they admire Niall’s handiwork and gather more snow to build the belly.

"I used one of your vases again," Louis tells him, scooping up snow and patting it together in his gloved palms. "Pink roses this time. Expensive I bet."

Niall slaps some snow onto the opposite side, brows furrowed in concentration. He hums in acknowledgment but stays quiet otherwise. Only looking up when he's satisfied with his addition.

“Expensive is right. You could probably pay your uni fees with all the money these flowers are costing.” He shakes his head in disbelief and scoops up another handful of snow.

Louis huffs out a small laugh pulls his gloves off, wet and freezing already.

“Then I wouldn’t need to play songs for tips in the coffee shop mate. You gotta think ahead, wouldn’t want to run the till without me there would you?”

Niall scoffs and waves his hand at him. "You'd never leave me. We'll be together forever, you and me." Putting his hands on his hips he takes a step back and scrutinizes the body of snow. "If you don't have me, who'll stay up till morning with you when you can hardly walk and your hair is falling out. Liam for fuck's sake? Zayn and Haz can't even stay awake now, never mind when they're fat and old."

Nodding solemnly Louis considers it before pulling his glove back on.

“I’ll need help throwing an after party. You’re undoubtedly the man for the job.”

“That’s the spirit.”

"Zayn thinks the flowers are from a serial killer," Louis says, not worrying about Niall keeping up with the subject change.

“Maybe Zayn is sending them.”

“That’s what I said!” Louis points to him excitedly. “But, he says I’m not his type.”

Niall looks him up and down and shrugs his shoulder. As if he agrees. As if Louis isn't a bloody masterpiece. A man can only be expected take so many hits to the ego before he snaps. Packing together a fist full of snow, he lobs it at Niall and gets him square in the face. Niall's cackle can probably be heard from the town over. He doesn't even stop to take a breath before he's tackling Louis into the snow.

The snowman ends up demolished, an innocent victim in their snowy struggle. Louis wins, but it's a close one.  Niall may seem all cheery and nice. But he fights dirty that one, the little shit.

 

* * *

 

“So Zayn says it’s a serial killer, and Liam thinks it’s someone from a class or something but every time we talk, he starts asking me about Zayn’s new song and I don’t know what the fuck he’s talking about honestly. Niall think’s it’s Zayn, but not really he’s just saying that. And every time I talk to you about it, you are absolutely no help because all you are worried about is what you’re going to put into your next pie. What are you doing?”

Not missing a beat,  Harry answers. “I’m taking off all my rings so that I can put on these gloves without them ripping.” Well. At least he’s been listening.

"What do you need gloves for?" Louis asks, pushing off the wall of the kitchen and fiddling with Harry's rings.

“I’m cutting peppers.” With a snap, Harry finishes pulling on the gloves and picks up the knife, using it to gesture to the peppers on the cutting board in front of him. “I don’t want to burn my eyes or leave the residue anywhere when I’m done.”

Smart one, that Harry. Using his noggin. Unlike Liam who had just that very morning handed Louis a cup of tea with at least three spoons of sugar in it. Disgusting.

Louis starts putting on Harry's rings, mostly for something to do and keeps chatting away as Harry cuts.

“So, I went to the flower shop.” The cutting stops abruptly and Louis looks up from his fingers. Harry meets his eyes and Louis furrows his brow in confusion at the sudden interest. “So… I went to the flower shop and the girl there, Jade is her name - lovely girl, she couldn’t tell me who was sending them because - are you still listening even though you’re chopping again or do you only listen when you aren’t chopping?”

“Always listening.” Better be.

“She couldn’t tell me who was sending them because they used a code name.” Louis pauses his story, not for effect, but because the rings are really fucking heavy. No wonder Harry’s arms are so big, he’s dragging around weights all the time.

“These rings are too heavy Harry, what are you trying to prove, honestly? So, the flower shop was a bust so Scooby and I-”

“Zayn?” Harry interrupts and Louis beams at him.

“That’s right. Obviously, Zayn is Scooby because I’m-”

“Shaggy.” Harry interrupts again with a sure tone of voice. Louis’s smile grows and he gives him a pat on the back.

"Right again, young Harold. Two for two." Harry makes a huffing noise with his mouth and blows the hair away from the front of his face. It's usually held back in a loose bun, the current issue is the obvious reason.

Not wanting him to chop off his finger while concentrating on his cinderella locks, Louis reaches up and gather his hair up. One of the rings snag on a knot and it pulls hard. Louis winces in sympathy and makes to apologize, but it dies in his throat when Harry groans.

They freeze.

And Louis is just curious is all. Just wondering if that's a one off reaction. Just wants to know what will happen if he..oh.

 Louis tugs again tentatively and the knife clatters to the cutting board as Harry lets out a whimper but makes no move to pull free from him. He should let go, Louis should let go and apologize and let Harry get on with what he was doing. Laugh it off.

He pulls again. Harder.

Harry spins from the counter but stays close, close enough that Louis’s hands stay wrapped up in his curls.

Arms held to the side, away from Louis in order to keep the pepper from him, he speaks through a clenched jaw, “Lou. Not a good idea.”

The grit in his voice makes Louis’s stomach drop and clench deliciously. Harry’s got a whole different side to him, this is the second time he’s seeing it, like a bear, ready to attack. Louis wouldn’t be Louis if he didn’t find a stick and poke a little.

"Feels like a good idea." He says sounding a lot braver than he feels. He licks his lips and scratches his nails at Harry's scalp. Watching his eyes slip closed. His shoulders are getting tired, from holding them above his head this way. But, it's worth it to watch Harry's eyes fly open, blown and dark when he grabs at the roots and tugs.

Harry absolutely loses it. Growling, he rips off the gloves and tosses them to the floor. Before Louis can do anything more than blink rapidly, he’s on him. One hand holding Louis’s chin steady and the other fisted in the hair at the base of his neck, kissing him.

It’s so different from the first time, from the quick press of dry lips, so hot, so fucking intense. Louis doesn’t know that he can take it, hot press of Harry’s mouth against his making his heart hammer in his chest. And then Harry’s biting, nipping little bites, along his bottom lip. Asking him to open up, let him in.

Just as Louis decides that's a wonderful idea, the kitchen door swings open.

“Zayn says you’re ten minutes late for your set and to ‘get your ass out of the kitchen and stop mucking about with Harry’.” Liam practically shouts from the door, despite being only feet away from them.

Louis tries to pull away, but Harry keeps him close. Foreheads pushed together.

If Liam is at all surprised he doesn’t show it, “Oi! This is a kitchen that is unsanitary behavior and music is to be made, let's go!”

Louis takes a shuddering breath and backs away from Harry slowly.

As he walks past Liam into the coffee shop, he gives him a look that properly indicates the fact that Liam’s life is on the line should he chose to utter one more word.

For the first time that day, Liam uses his brain.

 

* * *

 

For his 18th birthday, his uncle gave Louis a North Star puzzle. Made of several differently shaped, wooden pieces, it was a brain teaser. By placing all the shapes together in a certain order, you would end up with a star. But, if you misplaced just one piece, the whole thing would come out wrong or not at all.

Standing in the alley with Zayn, smoking a cigarette and watching Tommy the flower delivery boy pedal away towards the back of the building, Louis is reminded of the puzzle. Why would Tommy go to the back, there's nothing back there but garbage cans. He's got other deliveries to make, he's told him so during one of their other meetings. After this, he heads back to the shop and Jade gives him his next bouquet to run. It makes no sense, and Louis is beginning to think maybe this is the piece of the puzzle he's been overlooking.

Walking away from Zayn with no explanation, Louis follows the boy to the back of the building. He watches from the corner, careful to remain unseen as Tommy knocks on the door and waits. The door swings open, towards Louis so whoever is behind it is hidden from his sight. But, as Tommy speaks quickly, smiling and taking a few bills from the person's hand, Louis is pretty sure he knows exactly who it is. The door closes and Tommy turns, freezing like a kid caught in the candy jar when he spots Louis.

Louis smiles sweetly and crooks his finger at him. “Tommy, love, come here won’t you.”

 

When Louis bursts in the front door of the coffee shop, dragging Tommy in behind him by the hand, Niall freezes mid counting the day's money in the till. Zayn finished with breaking down the stage and equipment,  is sitting at the counter and notices Niall's reaction. He turns around to see the reason and when he spots the look on Louis's face, he spins back towards Niall, and deciding they need back up, calls for Liam. The uncharacteristic tone of panic in Zayn's voice must light a fire under Liam's ass, as he comes from the office at a frightening pace, slowing to a crawl and eventually stopping nervously upon sensing the tension radiating off of Louis.

Poor Tommy was nervous before, but seeing them all react this way has the kid practically quaking with fear. He nearly jumps out of his skin when Louis breaks the silence.

“Do me a favor?” Louis asks Zayn in a small voice acidly, making Niall flinch and Liam take a step back. “Call Harry out won’t you?”

When Harry swings through the kitchen door, it takes three seconds for him to evaluate the situation and assess the danger. Then, he's making his way around the counter slowly, hands raised like Louis has a gun. Tommy tries to pull away but Louis grips his fingers like a vice. He doesn’t speak again until Harry is directly in front of him.

“Tommy dear, is this the nice man who's been tipping you for the flowers?” Anyone who didn’t know Louis would think he was just pleasantly curious. They would be wrong.

"Yes." Tommy has to take a minute to gulp before continuing. "That's him. I told him I don't need it, but he won't let me go unless I take it." His eyes dart around the room, looking for someone to help him. Or maybe an escape route. Liam shakes his head slowly. No sudden movements.

After a beat, Louis releases his hand and turns to him. "Thank you, Tommy, that will be all." He doesn't even get the sentence fully out before Tommy makes it out the door.  Good thinking Tommy.

The coffee shop stays silent.

Harry takes a step forward hesitantly and thinks better of it when Louis raises an eyebrow.

"Why have you been sending me flowers, Harry," Louis asks quietly, tilting his head.

Harry looks to Zayn for help. Zayn looks between Louis and Harry and quickly shakes his head.

“Harry.” Louis pulls his attention back to him. “When I got the first bouquet of flowers, you said that people send other people flowers when they are in love.”

A loud crunching sound has every head in the room turning. Niall stands behind the counter, guilty look on his face and mouth full of biscotti. He shrugs apologetically. Louis rolls his eyes in forgiveness, stress makes Niall hungry.

Harry turns back to Louis and takes another step forward, relieved when Louis doesn’t motion for him to stop. He takes another. Then another, until they are sharing the same breath.

“I did say that.” He doesn’t whisper it, although he could and Louis could hear him this close. Doesn’t care about everyone hearing.

Louis stares up into his eyes, contemplating, letting the puzzles pieces click into place.

“Are you saying you are in love with me Harry?” He asks clearly, without waver in his voice.

“I am.” Harry moves slowly, rubbing his hand up Louis’s arm, testing the waters. “Saying that and in love with you. Both of those things.”

The gravity in the room is sucked out through a funnel and they are all left floating perilously. No one moves, no one makes a sound, Louis is pretty sure Liam has been holding his breath for at least three minutes and that's got to be some kind of record.

Louis reaches up abruptly, fisting his hands into Harry's curls and pulling down.  Zayn jerks forward in an aborted move, probably trying to save Harry's life, before settling back in the stool when Harry goes willingly. Pressing their foreheads together, going a bit cross-eyed due to the lack of distance, Louis smiles.

“Thank fucking god.” He whispers against Harry’s mouth before closing the distance and kissing him.

Distantly, he’s aware of the crashing noise that Liam makes as he slides down on to the floor. He’ll be alright.

Everything’s going to be just fine.

  

 


End file.
